


Three Kisses

by Gray Shadows (the_afterlight)



Category: Being Human
Genre: Mistletoe, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-12-22
Updated: 2010-12-22
Packaged: 2017-10-13 23:46:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,270
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/143009
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_afterlight/pseuds/Gray%20Shadows
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mitchell looked up from his book; he was lounging across the length of the couch, music playing softly on the stereo. “Well, George, you see, there's this tradition,” he explained. “You hang mistletoe close to Christmas, and then if two people get caught under it at the same time-”</p><p>George rolled his eyes. “I <i>bloody</i> know what it's for!” he exclaimed. “I want to know why it's here!”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Three Kisses

**Author's Note:**

  * For [notacute](https://archiveofourown.org/users/notacute/gifts).



> This is kind of nebulously set in season one, without any distinct timeline, so it's a little bit AU. With much thanks for my betas! Any remaining faults are mine own, of course.

There was mistletoe hanging just over the bottom of the stairs.

“Why,” George asked, “is there mistletoe hanging over the stairs?”

Mitchell looked up from his book; he was lounging across the length of the couch, music playing softly on the stereo. “Well, George, you see, there's this tradition,” he explained. “You hang mistletoe close to Christmas, and then if two people get caught under it at the same time-”

George rolled his eyes. “I _bloody_ know what it's for!” he exclaimed. “I want to know why it's here!”

Mitchell grinned. “Oh. In that case...” He waved vaguely in the direction of the kitchen. “Annie put it there. I think she wants to decorate the rest of the house, too. And we could use a tree, don't you think? Brighten up the place a bit.”

There was a long moment of silence from George, something to which Mitchell was rather unused. “Huh,” he said, finally, and a bit morosely, just as Mitchell was about to say something else. “Oh. All right.” But his tone said it was anything but all right.

“What is it?” Mitchell asked. “It can't be the- oh. Well, George, if you want a Menorah up as well, all you have to do is say so. Or,” he pointed out wryly, “take a cue from Annie and just put it up regardless.”

“No, it's...” George visibly restrained a bit of a flail, causing Mitchell to have to cover up a burst of chuckles. “It's all right. Let Annie have her fun.”

Mitchell shook his head. “If it's bothering you, we don't have to do anything.” He tucked his bookmark into his book and set it aside. “I mean, it's not like I particularly care whether we do Christmas or not. Bunch of poncy wankers being all- It's all commercialised now anyway. Not like it used to be. Used to be about _family_ , you know?” He glanced back towards the kitchen. “I just thought... Annie doesn't have much chance to have some fun. I didn't see any harm in it.”

“It's all right,” George repeated. “Really. You're right, she really should have... something.”

“And you shouldn't?” Mitchell started to stand up, but George turned away, heading towards the stairs, just shaking his head.

Which was his first mistake.

“Ooh!” Annie called, dashing out of the kitchen. “Mistletoe!” And just as George stepped underneath, she grabbed him spun, spun him around, and leaned up to brush a kiss against his lips, which action caused George to scream in shock right in her face.

“Don't _do_ that!” George insisted, pulling away and heading up the stairs. “Have your bloody mistletoe, have your Christmas, but leave me out of it!”

Annie looked to Mitchell, worry blatant on her face. “Should I-” she began, but Mitchell shook his head.

“Let him be,” Mitchell told her instead. “It's not you. Just... let him be.”

* * *

Annie looked up from the couch – she'd been lounging, enjoying the morning sunlight through the window as she held a cup of tea – when she heard someone coming down the stairs. “Good morning, Mitchell!” she called before was in view.

“How did you know it was me?” he asked, hesitating just at the foot of the stairs.

“You make an effort to make noise when you're coming down,” Annie explained, grinning at him. “I guess because you don't make much otherwise? And it sounds different than George's natural...”

“Scramble?”

Annie nodded in agreement. “Scramble works. And anyway, he's never down before ten a.m. on a weekend anyway, you know that.”

Mitchell laughed. “I suppose I do at that.” He glanced up above him, making a show of being surprised. “Annie! Is that mistletoe I see?”

Squealing a bit, Annie jumped up off the couch – barely avoiding spilling her tea as the sudden action caused it to slosh dangerously close to the edge of the cup – and dashed over to Mitchell. “Thank you!”

Wrapping his arms around her, Mitchell dipped Annie and gave her a big smooch on the lips, leaving them both laughing when they pulled apart. “You know,” Mitchell said, grinning widely, “I think that's the first time I've ever kissed a ghost.”

“You're more than welcome to do it again,” Annie told him. “Any time you want.”

Mitchell smirked. “Well,” he pointed out, “we are still under the mistletoe...”

* * *

When George got home from work, he glanced around nervously. “Annie?” he called out.

“Gone out,” Mitchell explained, coming in from the kitchen. He had half a sandwich in his hand and a steaming mug of hot cocoa; George could smell the chocolate from across the room. “Why?”

“Oh, thank _God_ ,” George exclaimed. “I swear, every time I've come home for the last three days, she's been lying in wait like a- like a- like a _lioness_. Ready to pounce! With the mistletoe, and the kissing, and the- and just-”

“And you can't be having with that.” Mitchell gestured with the sandwich in the direction of the stairs. “Well, she's not here. You're completely safe from her.”

George nodded. “Right. And if I pull it down- Oh, but then she'd be upset! And that wouldn't work. I mean, I suppose we have to leave it up, at least until this whole season is over...” As he talked, he moved towards the stairs, not paying attention as Mitchell moved closer. George didn't notice, in fact, until Mitchell's hand was on his arm; George glanced around and realised that Mitchell had put down his cocoa and his sandwich, although he couldn't quite figure out why. “Mitchell?”

“I did say you're safe from Annie,” Mitchell whispered, leaning in. “Me, on the other hand... Look up, George.”

George did, even knowing already what he was going to see. “Oh. Uh. Mitchell, you know that you're a very good friend, but-”

Mitchell's lips, George realised swiftly, tasted like chocolate, and the barest hint of cinnamon. _That must be the cocoa,_ a part of his brain filled in. The rest of his brain swiftly told that part to shut up.

 _We're getting snogged!_ it said. _Analyse later!_

 _But it's Mitchell! And we're not gay!_

 _Sod that._

George quickly stifled his internal monologue and pushed into the kiss. A moment later, though, he pulled away. “This isn't just about the mistletoe, is it?” he asked.

“Any more than you getting upset about it was just about Christmas,” Mitchell retorted. “You want to talk about it?”

Shaking his head, George pulled away. “No, it's fine,” he insisted. “Really.”

“George...” Mitchell began, but he shook his head. “Fine. Don't tell me. But George... Annie's doing Christmas. It wouldn't hurt you to do Hanukkah.”

“I'm just not comfortable with that!” George exclaimed. “Not when- They rather _frown_ on creatures of darkness!”

“You're no more dark than I am,” Mitchell tried.

George just snorted. “Yeah, that's a perfect example. No more dark than a vampire that _killed people_ for how many decades? Thanks, Mitchell, that's _so_ reassuring.”

Mitchell sighed. “Annie, then. Do you think she's dark, just because she's a ghost?”

“What? But- No, she's just... She's Annie!”

“Exactly,” Mitchell said. “And you're George. You're a werewolf, but what you _do_ , that's what defines you.

“Maybe you don't want to reconnect. Go to synagogue, or whatever. But, George... If it's important to you – and you know it is, so don't lie – don't give up on your faith.”

George nodded slowly. He looked up again. “We're still under the mistletoe,” he pointed out.

“So we are,” Mitchell agreed.

 _Not. Gay._

 _Shut up. We could be bi._

George smiled shyly. “Well,” he said, “isn't there a tradition associated with that?”


End file.
